Extermination
by KoutaDragara
Summary: The Administrator, bored of her game, introduces a new class, resulting in a rather unfortunate situation for his target. Rated T for blood/violence and some language. (EDIT 9/12/12: As of now, this story has been officially discontinued due to... Um... I don't remember why I stopped. I don't even remember all of where I was going with it. :/ Oh well. Sorry to any fans out there.)
1. A New Pawn

**EDIT: Because of a roadblock that I hit in chapters 2 and 3, I had to change a minor detail. Very small, but makes the next chapters much easier to figure out and write.**

OK, so it's been awhile since I wrote a fanfiction. I'm a little iffy about posting this before I finish it, because with so many projects, I start them and then lose interest (usually because I quickly realize how terrible my stories are). I'm going to try and make myself finish this one, but we'll just have to wait and see what happens.

Hopefully this one will turn out OK since I'm not trying to do romance. LOL I just can't write it without epically failing.

Before anyone says anything, yes the new class was inspired by one suggested on the TV Tropes WMG page for TF2. I give full credit to whoever posted that for the inspiration. I just expanded on the idea.

I shouldn't really have to say this, but whatever-

Team Fortress 2, All Characters (except the new one, of course) © Valve

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><p>"Mission ends in sixty seconds," a woman purred into a large microphone. She was dressed in rich purple, and her hair was a deep raven color with the exception of a white streak. She had an undeniably menacing and cruel air about her that choked off any and all traces of positivity that feebly attempted to waft past the door into the dark room.<p>

She sat in front of a control panel overflowing with complicated buttons, switches, and plugs, and above the controls were many monitors, all displaying the seemingly never-ending war going on between the mercenaries of RED and BLU. Men dressed in either red or blue uniforms charged at each other, blasting and beating their opposite-colored, yet otherwise identical nemeses, into submission.

"Mission ends in thirty seconds." Her lips twisted into a cold smile and her piercing eyes watched as the seemingly brave warriors fought blindly and futilely against their clones. They thought they knew enough to justify their fighting, but in fact they knew nothing. Nothing about why they were hired to fight or why it seemed to never end. They knew nothing at all. _Absolutely nothing_.

Oh, how she enjoyed their ignorance, their idiocy. She cherished and savored the sheer power she had over them, and how much she knew that they could never be allowed to find out. While it was reality for them, it was simply a game for her; a game that she was the Administrator of; a game that they were the hapless pawns of; a game they could never escape unless she allowed them to. They were nothing but poor, unsuspecting fools.

"Mission ends in ten seconds." She knew who would win this match. They had been winning for so long, her game almost started to get boring. She needed to spice things up a bit.

"Five…" Luckily for her, she had found that spice.

"Four...!" He should be here any minute now.

"Three!" She would just need to test him.

"Two!" If he could prove he was capable, the job would be his.

"One!" If not, he would have to be eliminated. He knew too much simply by being offered the job.

As the ever-present timer reached zero, she swiftly removed one of the plugs from its slot and placed it into another.

"Victory." RED had unsurprisingly won the match. She then removed the same plug and inserted it into yet another slot.

"You failed!" She continued to watch the monitors as the victors finished off any remaining BLUs. She sneered as the last cowering BLU, their Scout, dashed as quickly as he could for BLU's base, hoping to wait out the pursuing REDs. Just as he reached his supposed haven, a rocket found its way to his back, effectively splattering bloody bits and pieces of what used to be a boy all over the entrance to BLU's base. Even though getting the clones to replace the deceased team members costed a rather large amount of money that she didn't quite enjoy spending, she smiled at the violent scene. Scout was one of her favorites to watch die. Disrespectful, cheeky little smart-ass.

She lit a cigarette and continued to watch with decreasing interest as RED, after confirming that all BLUs had been killed, headed back to their own base for victory celebration during ceasefire. That was the last match of the day. Over the next hour, the BLU replacements would settle back into their base and attempt to come up with a new strategy in hopes of gaining back some of the ground they had lost. So far, none of them have worked, and she didn't suspect tomorrow would be any different, aside from the testing of her new pawn. As if on cue, a knock was heard at her door.

"Come in, Ms. Pauling," the Administrator sleekly commanded. At her order, the door opened and a rather mousy young lady stepped inside before shutting the door once again, leaving her alone in the dark room with her employer. She was short and sweet-looking with soft features, wore purple like the older woman, and had on a large pair of glasses. Her hair was a color very similar to her boss's, and she wore much less makeup.

"The new recruit is here, ma'am," Ms. Pauling informed her superior.

"Good. Send him in."

At that, the younger woman left the room, closing the door behind her, and went to fetch the newcomer. The Administrator turned off her monitors, rendering the room much darker, and removed her microphone plugs so the conversation couldn't reach outside the room. Ms. Pauling quickly returned with the visitor. She led him in and sat him in a chair opposite the Administrator's, then swiftly retreated out the door, leaving the recruit at the older woman's mercy.

His hair was long and wavy, and was dirty blonde in color. He had a small scruff of a beard and was thin enough that it seemed as if all of the other mercenaries could easily snap him in half with their bare hands. He was dressed in loose casual clothing, which she wrinkled her nose at. He, along with a few of the other mercenaries, apparently didn't have the sense to know when to dress formally.

"Hello, Mr. Boyd," the Administrator greeted in her own curt way.

"Hey," he replied slowly with a smile on his face that revealed how inebriated he was. She was already beginning to regret bringing him in.

"Now, before I give you the job and put you out openly into the field, I'm going to need to see that you are capable of fulfilling your assigned role. I have prepared a test fo-"

"Now, now miss," he interrupted. "Of course I'm capable. Heh heh. You and I both know it. There's no need to get into all this testing business." He swayed back and forth and couldn't seem to quite focus on her. She found talking with him almost as irritating as trying to talk to the drunken Scot.

"No, I do _not_ know that for certain, Mr. Boyd. You are to complete the task I set for you, or you don't get the job." She looked at the intoxicated man with disgust. Her piercing gaze seemed to bring some sense back into him, as he straightened up in his seat and focused on her a little more, his smile becoming more subtle.

"OK then, miss. What's this task I gotta complete?"

"I'm assigning you to one target for now. He should be a relatively easy target. You are to use your own methods to eliminate him. If you can successfully kill this man, you shall be hired." He obviously thought this task sounded easier than he thought it would, as he relaxed once again and let his large smile return.

"Gotcha. So who's my target?" She handed him a file containing a few papers. He opened it and pulled out the first one, a photo. He studied the man in it for a moment, and then returned the picture to the folder. He would look more into it later, when he could think straighter.

"Tomorrow's match begins at six o'clock sharp. Ms. Pauling will get you at five o'clock, you will be in uniform and with all of your weapons, and she will accompany you to where you're supposed to be. From there on out, you will be with the BLU team. Once there, you are not to be seen by _anyone_ on the RED team. You are to take care of the target I assigned you, and him alone. Do you understand?" She watched him as the instructions attempted to register in his head. They eventually seemed to make their way in, and he nodded while giving her a thumbs up.

"Totally." She rolled her eyes at his simple replies that were very similar to Scout's.

"Good. You may leave now," she said. He slowly got up and walked to the door with a slight wobble in his steps. After he closed the door behind him, she returned to her monitors and controls and powered them back up. She cycled through several cameras to find her pawn's target. He was in the kitchen, along with several of his teammates. She smiled as she wondered whether Mr. Boyd's methods were quick and painless or slow and excruciating. She ever-so-slightly hoped for the latter.

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><p>The man stepped outside the foreboding room and saw Ms. Pauling waiting for him. His drunken thoughts shamelessly strayed from his mission over to how cute he thought Ms. Pauling looked-he had a thing for girls with glasses.<p>

"If you'll come with me, Mr. Boyd, your things have been taken to your room," she said as she turned and walked down the hallway at a brisk pace. He followed, easily keeping up but still a fair distance behind her, and his eyes, no longer having access to her face, slowly wandered southward. He noticed that her rear was rather attractive as well-not too small, not too big. He knew he shouldn't be admiring women's rumps but he didn't care, at least not in his current state.

He continued to watch her bum sway back and forth with each step until it abruptly stopped and turned. His head shot up to see her unlocking a room at the end of a hallway much different from where the Administrator's room was. He had been so engrossed in admiring his guide that he hadn't heard anything she might've said or seen anything passing to help him figure out where in the building he was.

"This is where you'll be staying until a decision is made about your hiring," she told him as she finished unlocking the door and opened it, motioning him inside. He stepped inside the dark room and Ms. Pauling flipped a light switch.

He saw that it was a small room, had no windows and one door besides the one leading to the hallway, and was cold, gray, and dark. There was a small, cheap bed and an old table in one corner of the room, which was otherwise empty with the exception of his belongings, which had been piled in the center of the dank space. He walked over to the other door and opened it to find a small bathroom with a toilet, shower, sink, and cracked mirror. He had to step back out of it when an odd stench made itself known.

"I'm afraid it's no five-star hotel, but you shouldn't be staying here for too long," Ms. Pauling stated, noticing his reaction to the bathroom's scent. She stepped back outside the door. "You are not to leave this room unless called for by me, and meals will be brought to you here." She quickly went over her mental checklist before deciding that she had told him everything she needed to.

"Good day, Mr. Boyd," she said as she started to close the door, but was stopped by her company's guest.

"Please, Ms. Pauling. Just call me Marcus." He smiled at her in his most seductive manner, which admittedly wasn't very seductive, and she returned his advance with irritation.

"No, thank you, Mr. Boyd. I prefer not to get personal with people I've just met." She closed the door in his face, locked it behind her, and swiftly made her way down the hallway.

Marcus, convinced that he had charmed her, turned back to his things and fished out a joint, which he promptly began to smoke, replenishing his waning high. He then began sorting his things out. The first item he picked up was one of his most personal-a green surfboard. He took it with him everywhere despite its large size, believing it brought him good luck; he also just thought it convenient to have one in case he got a random chance to go surfing. He propped it up against a section of wall close to the bed and admired it before returning to work.

Next on top, he found his uniform that he had received upon his arrival to the building. He took it out of its protective covering and looked at it. There was a blue T-shirt with light yellow patches on the sleeves. Upon closer inspection, he found them to have what he was told would be his class symbol, a skull and crossbones, on them. "_Fitting_," he thought with a smile. There was also a white undershirt, a gray-blue vest, navy pants, a brown belt with a black ammo pouch, and black fingerless gloves. He then noticed a pair of black boots next to his bags. He laid his uniform out on top of the bed, which he saw had several stains on it from who-knows-what. He turned back to sorting; he would try on his uniform later.

After checking through bags and making sure nothing was missing, he found the possessions most vital to his job: his many vials and jars of various liquids and substances. He set them on the table one by one, taking extra care not to drop any. At the bottom of the bag, he found the two most precious bottles, one red and one blue, inside a protective case. He carefully removed them from their case and examined the fluids inside.

When he took the job, he was given the strange red substance, the likes of which he had never seen before. He asked what it was, and he was told that it was a sample of what was used to heal the injured during combat. He asked why they had given it to him, and they answered that he was to create something that couldn't be cured simply by applying this substance.

He set to work immediately, and began testing his various concoctions with the healing liquid. Everything he had created thus far could be healed, although some took longer than others. Marcus put all of his knowledge of poisons and venoms into creating one of the most powerful substances he had ever seen, the blue fluid. He knew for a fact that the healing potion he received couldn't cure it, but he couldn't find any suitable beings to test it on, thus he had no idea what effects it would cause. He just hoped that it was what the Administrator wanted.

After admiring his toxic brew long enough, he returned both precious bottles to their case. He then stood and sauntered over to his ratty bed. He replaced the clothing he had been wearing with his new uniform and attempted to look himself over in the broken bathroom mirror. He didn't look too bad, if he did say so himself. He noticed one thing was missing, though, and rummaged through his bags once more until he found the missing touch-his favorite necklace, which had a silver peace sign on it. What better way to go to war than with peace for all to see?

He returned to the mirror and was pleased with his addition. He would've looked longer, but the toilet's merciless stench drove him back out. He then returned the suit back to its covering and redressed himself with his normal clothing. He lay down on the stained bed and slowly drifted off into slumber.

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><p>A sudden knocking woke Marcus with a start. He looked around for a brief moment, temporarily unsure of where he was. Then he remembered.<p>

"Excuse me, Mr. Boyd. May I come in?" Ms. Pauling called from the opposite side of the door. He quickly tried to straighten out his clothes and smooth out his messy hair. He knew he had wooed her with his suave and charm and wasn't about to let his fresh-out-of-a-nap appearance ruin his chance to win her over even more.

"Come on in, Ms. Pauling!" he returned her call. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to look his coolest. He heard the sounds of the door unlocking and watched as the young lady stepped inside carrying a plate covered with tinfoil.

"Dinner is served." He was surprised that she didn't look ecstatic to bring her love his dinner.

"Thank you, Ms. Pauling," he said as he relieved her of the oddly cold dish. "Say, I don't think I even know your name yet, sweetheart." He was even more surprised when her expression soured ever-so-slightly.

"As I said, I prefer not to get personal with people I barely know," she retorted. "Enjoy your meal Mr. Boyd, and good night." She briskly stepped out of the room, relocking the door and making her way back down the hallway.

Marcus removed the tinfoil to see that he had been given a plate of cold chicken and a little bit of salad. He was a vegetarian, so eating the chicken was out of the question. He moved to eat the salad when he realized he hadn't even been given any eating utensils. His stomach rumbled rather loudly, and he sighed before treating the salad as finger food for lack of no other options.

After dinner, he remembered his file. He opened it up and looked at the photo once again. The man didn't necessarily look like an easy target. He then read the information printed on the papers behind the photo. There, he found why the photographed man would be an easy target-he was a loner.

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><p>So. There ya go. I was <em>not<em> intending for the chapter to be this long. I also intended to keep the new class a mystery, but it just ended up getting really long and explanatory. XD Sorry. No idea if any of the other chapters will be this long. I'll try to lengthen them, but that might not work out.

So was my little hint at the end too obvious? LOL I wanted to keep Marcus's target a surprise but still allow the audience to guess, but I think I failed. It's hard to point at a specific character without giving it away.

Also, I think the conversation between the Administrator and Marcus is a little... rushed, maybe? I don't know. I was just having a difficult time figuring out how it would go. *Doesn't have a job interview experience to go by, which probably would've helped*

And no, this is not a Ms. PaulingxMarcus fic. XD That's just my poor attempt at comedy and at showing how idiotic Marcus can be. There's absolutely no romance in this whatsoever, so people like me who don't like yaoi don't have to worry.

Comments, critiques, and favorites are highly appreciated. Thanks in advance! ;)


	2. Routines and Introductions

Wow, I'm impressed with myself. LOL Two six-page chapters in two days. I might actually finish this thing if I keep going at this rate! Unfortunately, I have a book report to do, I need to select plays for Drama Club, and and I have band camp next week. Not to mention school starts in two weeks. *Sigh* Oh well. Summer, where did you run off to? :'c

Anyway, hopefully this chapter hasn't degraded in quality from the first.

For those who didn't see the change note in the first chapter, when writing this chapter, I ran into a roadblock (how the heck was he going to get to his target without being seen by either team? It's practically impossible unless you're a Spy, which Marcus obviously is not) and had to change a minor detail so that I would be able to work some things out easier. So now he's on BLU team (technically he already had the BLU uniform).

BTW To anyone who may be turned off by an OC being the focus of the story-I plan on having Marcus step back a little bit once his target is revealed, since a good bit of the story revolves around what happens to them.

*Spoiler*I get to be incredibly abusive to one of my two favorite characters.*/Spoiler*

jacko-Holy crap. LOL Someone is honestly interested in MarcusxMs. Pauling? Hmm.. _Maybe_ they'll get something if enough people review and ask for it. ;P I was trying to avoid real romance because I'm terrible at writing it, but maybe as a small side thing... And on the item set idea: Of course, it would be more practical for the game itself, but it's not as fun in a fanfiction, now is it? LOL

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><p><em>BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.<em>

"Gargghh…," one of the three sleeping, red-pajama-clad men in the room grumbled.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

He sighed and forced his eyes open. As his eyes adjusted to the light pouring in through the window, he saw that no one was moving to do anything about the incessant beeping.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

He irritably got out of the bed and trudged over to the relentless alarm clock.

_BEEP. BEEP. BEE-_

He stopped the clock's alarm, relieving his ears of its shrill noise. He looked around, and still neither of his roommates moved an inch.

"Come on, you two," he said with a noticeable Australian accent. The lanky man walked over to the bed closest to the alarm clock. It contained the youngest and most annoying member of the team.

"Get movin' Scout." The boy didn't budge. The man sighed and pulled off Scout's blankets while also jerking his pillow out from under his head.

"Hey, man! You think this face is getting any prettier when you won't even let me sleep?" Scout shouted in his recognizable Bostonian accent.

"Look, mate. If ya want sleep, do us all a favor an' go to bed earlier," he replied calmly. "Now get up."

"What if I can't go to bed earlier, Sniper? Ever thought about that? Huh?"

"How 'bout you try drinkin' less a' that caffeine overloaded soda? Ever thought maybe that's whot's keepin' ya up all night?" Sniper tried not to raise his voice in an argument with Scout. Shouting back at him only encouraged him. The Australian knew he had won the argument when the boy opened his mouth to speak, then quickly shut it and began pouting.

"Truckie, I know yer up." Sniper and Scout both turned to look at their other roommate, who chuckled as he turned over.

"Ya got me. Heh heh. I was gonna see if'n I could get a few more winks while you two had yer little exchange," the Texan said as he stood up and stretched, cracking his back in the process.

"Eeeww. Engineer, why'd ya do that?" Scout shuddered, making his disgust at popping bones known, even though it wasn't quite a secret to begin with. Sniper smiled at his opportunity to get in a jab at Scout and cracked his neck with a satisfied groan.

"Ew! Stop it! You know I hate that!" They both turned to look at Engineer, who had his hands at the ready. "Oh no." Scout began shaking his head and backing away. Engineer continued to inch towards him with his hands clasped together. "No. No, no, no, no." Sniper made sure the door was closed. "Nononononono-"

_CRRRAAACCCKKKK!_

"Eeeaauugggh!" The boy clasped his hands to his ears and shuddered heavily, much to his older roommates' amusement. "Ewewewewewewew! God, I hate you guys so much sometimes!" He took his hands away from his ears and all three gathered their uniforms from the closet.

They then exited their room and walked down the hallway the bedrooms were found on. They noticed that the middle room was empty, all of its occupants having gotten up in good time, but when they reached the final one, they heard loud snoring from inside. They each snuck a glance inside the door as they passed, even though they didn't need to look to know that the Heavy was the source of the racket. He was so deep in sleep, it was entirely reasonable to liken him to a hibernating bear, which is the reason why he was the last one to wake-no one in their right mind wants to bother a sleeping bear.

The trio shortly came to the bathroom, which was occupied at the moment. The clothing rack outside the bathroom already had four of the nine mercenaries' uniforms, all a deep red, hanging on it. Judging from which uniforms were missing, they knew Spy had managed to make it there first. He usually did. They each hung their suits up on the rack and made their way to the kitchen where the owners of the four hanging uniforms ate their breakfast and waited for their turn in the bathrooms.

"Mornin'," Engineer greeted his teammates.

"Aye, good mornin' lads," returned Demoman.

"Lrrphy wrrrrphrrr trrrdrrr," Pyro chimed in through his muffling mask.

"Really? I haven't looked yet," Sniper replied.

"So how long has Spy been in there?" Scout asked.

"Seven minutes," answered Soldier.

"So we got about three minutes left," the boy calculated before Soldier jumped back in to give his two cents.

"That backstabbin', French sissy needs to learn that we can't all just mosey in there and take as much time as we please! He bathes like a damn lady! Why, in the war, I-"

"Calm down, Soldier. Ve have already heard enough about your time in ze 'var'," Medic said with a hint of contempt. Everyone except Soldier himself knew that he had arrived to World War II four years too late. Medic tried to keep Soldier from talking about it, as the German didn't exactly love hearing a madman telling stories about killing hundreds of innocent people from his country.

Engineer cleared his throat, knowing that if the subject wasn't changed, things could go south very quickly. "So, what's for breakfast, Doc?" Medic, never having even turned from his cooking, placed a fresh, hot pancake onto a waiting plate, which already had two stacked onto it.

"Pancakes," he answered. "Und in case no vun has noticed, zere are already finished plates," he said as he motioned to five plates, each with four pancakes. All five of the waiting men grabbed a plate and began to dine on their doctor's culinary work. While some of them doubted his ability and qualification as a doctor, no one could question that he was an excellent cook. The only members of the team with any hope of surpassing Medic were Pyro, who made the best desserts, and Engineer, who specialized in barbeque.

Shortly after, Spy stepped through the door, fresh from his bath and dressed in his suit. He picked up a plate waiting by Medic and sat down at his seat, marked by a newspaper on the table in front of it. It didn't have his name on it, per se, but it was simply the unspoken rule that it was Spy's seat, and Spy's alone; Scout found out the hard way what happened to those who broke that unspoken rule, and though the incident was never referred to again, it still seemed to haunt Scout's nightmares on the rare occasion.

"Demoman, your turn," Spy said from behind his newspaper.

"Thank yeh," the black Scottish Cyclops returned before placing his empty plate in the sink and making his way to the bathrooms.

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><p>Marcus was still half-asleep by the time he had made it to where Ms. Pauling was leading him. He wasn't used to waking up this early, and he somehow found sleeping difficult the previous night.<p>

"Here we are," Ms. Pauling stated, slightly bringing him out of his tired stupor. He looked up to see that there was apparently a train station, with admittedly very strange-looking trains, inside the TF Complex. What all else there was inside the giant building, Marcus knew he would never find out. Ms. Pauling wasted no time in pushing him onto the train, the door swiftly slamming shut behind them. She stepped over to a large computer and typed an unknown command into the terminal.

"Train Number 10 leaving for BLU Base. Please take a seat and do not attempt to leave the train until it comes to a complete stop at the determined destination. Thank you," a female, static-filled computerized voice boomed through the train's speakers.

As Marcus looked for a seat, the train lurched forward, sending him into the floor face-first. He looked up to see Ms. Pauling somehow keeping her balance through the jerky start. The train soon settled into the tracks, giving a mostly smooth ride, allowing them both to reach seats. He attempted to sit next to Ms. Pauling, but she quickly moved five seats over.

He attempted to look out at the passing scenery through the window, but the train moved so fast that everything was nothing but an indeterminate blur. As he watched the blur take on different colors and vague shapes, his mind wandered. He had studied the map of Dustbowl, the battlefield of the day, he received in his file very carefully, and discovered that it would be extremely difficult to get to his target for the first round. The second round would be difficult as well. He would have to wait for the last part of the third round. If he could last that long.

He slowly felt himself drifting off to sleep, and had no trouble giving into his body's desires.

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><p>When the train arrived at its destination, it lurched forward, much like when it first started, and Marcus was once again thrown to the floor like a doll, abruptly waking him from his nap. When he managed to stand back up again, he saw Ms. Pauling typing another command into the same terminal.<p>

"Welcome to BLU Base, headquarters and home to the mercenaries of Builders League United. We hope you enjoy your stay," the speakers screeched. Marcus had no idea how his ears were still functioning after hearing it.

He and Ms. Pauling stepped out as the doors opened, revealing a large metal building seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He spotted a large blue sign with a wrench and the company's name printed on it in cream, once again confirming his location.

Ms. Pauling hurried over to the building's entrance, eager to get out of the dust blowing about them, and Marcus followed. She led him through so many twisting and turning hallways, he had no idea how one could stay on track in the place. They eventually reached a large room where he saw nine men waiting. He was obviously expected. He scanned the small gathering, and noticed a man identical to his target, except dressed in blue.

He had been told that both BLU and RED teams had the same nine mercenaries, differentiated only by the colors they wore. They informed him that this was made possible through cloning. It was also made known that if he got the job, he would be fighting his own clone on the RED team, and whenever he died, he would be replaced with a clone. He was assured that his memories would be retained and that as long as he had a clone waiting, he would never have to truly worry about death, but it was still unsettling. The whole idea of clones, especially one of him, made him slightly uncomfortable.

"Good morning, boys. I'm sure the Administrator has already contacted you about my visit?" Ms. Pauling cheerily greeted them.

"We were told of new class," Heavy replied with his thick Russian accent.

"Yes. This, gentlemen, is Marcus Boyd." Marcus highly enjoyed hearing her say his name for the first time, even though it was in introduction. "He is the first in an experimental new class-the Exterminator." So that's what he was to be called. Exterminator. He was hoping for a better name, as his previous job, which he hated with a passion, was also called exterminator. Maybe he was destined to be saddled with that name for the rest of his life.

"How's he gonna help us out?" Scout asked, eyeing Marcus with slight suspicion.

"He will not engage in direct combat, preferring a more indirect approach, similar to how a few of you already work," she answered, acknowledging Medic, Sniper, Engineer, and Spy's respective roles. "The Exterminator, similar to the much more common job of the same name, will work with poisons. He will wear down opponents, making killing them much easier." Marcus looked around to see some faces looking at him doubtfully, some hopefully, and some indifferently.

"But. Today, the Administrator has assigned him a specific job to perform. Only if he can complete this task will he be allowed to continue to work with you. It is a task that he will need your help to complete." She took a glance at a clock on the wall. "Excuse me. I'm going to have to leave you now. Exterminator will finish introducing himself to you." She walked out the door and down the hallways leading her back to the train stop, leaving the new BLU alone and under the fierce scrutiny of eight and a half pairs of eyes. He swallowed nervously. God, he wished he had brought a joint with him.

Both Exterminator and the other BLUs stood silently, each side waiting for the other to speak. The nine men could tell they were freaking the newcomer out. Some enjoyed it, others just wanted to get introductions over with and get to the battle. Maybe they could pull off a lucky win today. Engineer was the first to step forward and offer Exterminator his hand.

"Dell Conagher, Engineer. Pleasure to meet you, Marcus," he welcomed the man with a warm handshake. Exterminator returned the gesture, glad there seemed to be at least one person capable of friendliness. Then, Pyro strolled over to his new teammate and offered his hand as well.

"Grrrrphrrph, Mrrkhrrph. Irrph rrph Prrphrr." Exterminator was unsettled by the masked man, and couldn't understand a single word said behind the mask, but nodded and shook the gloved hand.

One by one, the others moved forward to greet their new teammate in their own way. After learning their names and general roles, he looked at the clock on the wall. They had twenty minutes until the match started. He then returned their attention to his assignment.

"Right now, I have one enemy that I can attack, so I won't be much help in combat today. But to get to him, I'll have to wait until the last round of the match. That's the only place where I can get close enough to him. I'll need all of your help to stay alive until then, and to get into position once the final round starts."

"Son, we can't form a strategy if we don't even know who you're goin' after. Who's your target?" Soldier inquired with a hint of irritation. Exterminator pulled out the photo and passed it around.

"Any particular reason vhy you are to attack zis enemy?" Medic asked.

"I was told he would be an easy target. No offense," he turned to his enemy's BLU counterpart.

"None taken."

* * *

><p>After the entire team, including Heavy, had finished their morning routine, it was nearly time for the match to start. None of them were too worried about facing their BLU counterparts. After all, they had won so many matches in a row, it seemed impossible for BLU to muster up a strong enough attack to break through their impenetrable defenses.<p>

The RED team left for the weapons locker, not in any particular rush. They each collected their weapons in turn and headed for the teleport room, which was the only real connection between the base and the outside world, including their battlefields. They all gathered around the Dustbowl teleport, one person at a time being molecularly disassembled at the base and then reassembled at RED spawn in the first section of Dustbowl.

They had ten minutes left until the match started. They weren't able to leave the spawn until there was only a minute left, so they had time to kill. Most of them did useful things, such as double-checking their weaponry for problems. Others proceeded to waste their time on much less important tasks, such as drinking, tossing a baseball against the wall, and snacking.

As the clock wound down, they slowly came to attention and prepared to set up their defenses against BLU. Eventually, they heard the eagerly awaited sentence-

"Mission begins in sixty seconds."

* * *

><p>I don't think I've given the target away completely just yet. At least I hope not. LOL<p>

And now Marcus has a class name! Which happens to be the same as the name of his previous job. XD

And yes, Scout is like my mom. He can't stand hearing bones pop. I thought it would be funny, but as I wrote it, I realized that he likely hears cracking bones all the time when he whacks people upside the head with his bat. My excuse: he's fine with it as long as he's the one who's causing them to crack. He's like my sister in that respect-she hates loud noises, but is perfectly fine with them as long as she's the one making them. LOL

In case anyone is confused, the chapter starts off from RED team's perspective, then goes to Marcus and Ms. Pauling, then to Marcus, Ms. Pauling, and BLU, and finally back to RED.

Once again, comments, critiques, and faves are appreciated. ;)


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